Ogres and Ogresses Ch. 11

Gharla grit her teeth in annoyance as she watched cloaked witches bustle by her in scattered hordes.

She had grown tired of the color, grown to hate it in fact. Her hate was only fueled by the white cloak she now wore. Caligula, the brown colored male had said that her current clothes were unfitting of their sanctuary. Without the right clothing, the creatures of the land might mistake her for an uninvited guest.

She had been "recommended" this new attire.

It was a dress with a hood for the most part. Her soft boots had been replaced by beaded sandals. Her hair had been magically braided into a strange circlet, and blue stones hung around her neck. Her lodging was a room inside the tree. It was perpetually night inside of it, blue moonlight shining from an unknown source. The room was simple, containing a strange feathery sleep setting and her own luminescent water basin.She stared at the face that stared back at her. The refined soft features dampened by a scowl.

She hated it here. Every day she felt she was becoming less and less of herself. For the first few days she had constantly looked to spot Enui. Brief glances to ensure her safety turned into uncomfortable disturbing memories as the nymphs refused to release her from their debauchery. She had asked why they continued to defile Enui.

"It's unusual actually," Caligula had said in response to her questioning.

"Nymphs are fickle creatures. They usually detach themselves to their playmates in the matter of hours. Whatever is inside your friend must really be...perverted."

Gharla bristled at the accusation. "How dare you suggest she desires such..."

"How would you know what she desires young one?"

His eyes were like glistening gems, sparkling with their indigo darkness. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she swore she saw want in his eyes. She was unable to answer as he walked forward a hand sliding on the cold marble walls. He was backing her up into a corner.

Gharla forced herself to hold her ground and shivered when he stood inches away from her.

"What do you know of desire?"

He ran a finger down a wheat colored braid and smiled to himself.

"You are quite beautiful. You all were actually. An impressive group of humans."

His head leaned down and she growled shoving off the wall.

"Do not presume you may play games with me witch! I do not fear you!"

He snickered and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in delight. "Oh I am quite sure you don't. May I ask you one question Madam Gharla?"

She glared at him, sick of the games she was subjected to day in and day out.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow, his handsome face taking on a roguish quality.

"Is the denial of pleasure a Rovian way?" he asked. She was about to snap when he added, "I have seen into your minds, all of you. You can thank Etaceh for that."

Gharla had suspected that. How else would the witch know how to torture each of them? Yet, to hear it said aloud gave it new horrible meaning. He knew things that no one should know about her.

"Your sister Zyra is a raging storm of repression. Her desires are practically childlike, she has no idea what she wants only that she wants it. The child is hopelessly confused and unaware of her effect of others. And...Enui was it?"

He began to walk in an aimless direction, his footsteps resounding in the air.

"Did you have any idea how trapped she was? Stifled under that innocent visage? She wanted passion in her pleasure, but all she received was gentleness. It makes perfect sense actually." He smirked.

"How could one not go mad after sampling but a taste of ones true desires?"

"She begged us for salvation!" Gharla shouted. "You ruined her! She was in pain!"

"From the withdrawl," he corrected. "Now she's enjoying herself immensely. If anyone caused her pain, it was you."

This caused the end of her patience. She charged at him with a raised fist aimed for his face. Before it could land he grabbed her wrist. She swung the other hand and he captured that as well, drawing her in so he could bear his height over her.

"Ah ah ah..." he cooed, drilling his eyes into her. "Your sister already succeeded with that feat. I have no desire to heal myself again."

He pulled her body closer so that she could feel the planes beneath his robe. He was muscular and his body molded against hers. Her cheeks flushed in indignation and horror.

"Why do you try to control what is innate?" he asked softly. "You humans can try to, but you cannot remove yourselves from nature."

His grip tightened and he bent his lips to her ear.

"Nature's truest desire is to create life. In order to create energy must be exerted. Do you know how?"

"Let me go."

"With sex. Fucking. Desire. The whole world, our world, the air you breathe is the result of an universal orgy. You think it something to be hidden, when your food fucks out in the open. To deny your desires is to deny who you are."

"Some desires are wicked," Gharla hissed, unable to wrench herself from his grip. "Some desires can get you killed!"

He chuckled at her futile attempts. Turning he pressed her against the wall and grinned.

"Sex is not one of them."

Caligula's eyes wandered down her body and she felt like he could see through her robe. Her heart began to race as they trailed back up from their inspection.

"I mean you no harm Madam Gharla. We witches are part of this land. What the land desires, we desire. We don't believe in being deprived. You too are now part of this land, thanks to your tests."

He released her and let her scramble away.

"If for any reason you have an urge..." he said narrowing his eyes. "You should follow it. You will not be punished for anything you do, and no one will try to force you to follow their desires. That'd be...unnatural."

With that, he winked at her and left her by herself. She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to quiet.

All she wanted was to go home.

She ignored the tingling sensations that lingered inside of her. She did have a desire, but some desires were too strange to be natural. She was sure he had manipulated her in some fashion. She could only wait until Enui was sane and hope her desires did not outwit her sense.

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Now...ok...now!

Now!

Fuckta

Zyra was playing a foolish game with herself. She needed to go into the forest to check on the ogre.

It had been three days since she had last given him his provision. Still, she couldn't quite put his strange behavior out of her mind. It was illogical to think an ogre and a human could possibly perform...certain acts.

Was he so desperate for touch that he would pretend to desire her?

Regardless she couldn't deny the strange feelings he pulled so easily out of her. She had long ago abandoned her unjust anger. Now she was left with nothing but confusion, and something else. The something else had yet to be identified.

Zyra looked up, judging the height of the sun. It was a hot day, she could feel the rays beating down upon her in fury. Several of the village women had taken to the stream, the thinnest part closest to their camp. They mended torn frocks on the bank with their ankles resting in the water. The children and young girls splashed each other in its shallowness. Her dear Nima was among them.

Nima had recovered quite well. In fact, her speech had improved again. She spoke nonstop in perfect human tongue. The only problem was that all her question revolved around the orge.

They were unsettled at the moment. They spoke often as they were unaccustomed, but there was this big solid wall that built higher with every word unspoken. Zyra was hoping that within a few days Kyzu would cool down. Now she saw she was wrong. Kyzu could not cool down because Kyzu was not angry. That was the trouble. The ogres' words rattled like loose stones in her mind.

Was Kyzu incompetent?

Did this make her competent?

What would Kai...the ogre say?

Sighing she knew there was but one answer to this. She had to seek out the ogre. It was still midday. There was no chance of her ending up with him alone at night. Zyra was fully armed thanks to a quick hunt that morning. Holding her spear she padded quietly towards his abode.

When she reached the camp she saw he had made a few additions. For one thing, he had dug a wider fire pit. Next, he had unraveled her net and made a series of lines where he held up dried herbs and meats. She could see what she believed to be Snaganips drying on flat rocks. She thought they had all gone into hibernation. She wondered how he had found them. They were one of the longest lasting stored meats because of the creature's sea water origin. Perhaps she could ask.

The strange fences he built were finally even and a very good distance from one another.

Perhaps he would move the tent inside?

Another question to ask.

Goodness, she was turning into her niece.

She walked quietly, trying to figure out where he might be. She couldn't help but resort to a more primitive means. He was light footed, but his feet left faint tracks. She was no tracker compared to Gharla, but she could track. Following softly bent brushes, an accidental scraping on a tree from his talon like nails, the absence of a fruit, she walked steadily ahead.

Soon she realized she was approaching the end of the river. On the far side she saw a flash of green amidst the sparkling reflection of the sun. She stayed low and peered forward. No, her eyes did not deceive her. There in the center of the river was the ogre, swimming about with nothing but his green color to swaddle him.

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks and frowned heavily.

Naturally this would happen. Naturally.

She was Zyra, what was she expecting?

Clothed civility?

Granted she couldn't blame the ogre for being hot, but she could note his state of undress in the middle of the day was in no way practical. He bordered a village of women. What if a lone child looked upon him? She did not envy the mother who would have to explain the irregularities of his flesh.

Looking back her heart skipped when she noticed him swimming closer to the shore.

Great, he might see her. Somehow she could not bring herself to be noticed.

He stood waist deep now, his russet hair was now a damp blood red. Water droplets glistened on his skin, dotting the muscles of his arms. He flexed his wide shoulders, running his hands through his hair. His solemn eyes looked like melted sunlight, burning with vibrant emotions.

She wasn't sure when she had sat down, nor when she leaned in. Regardless of this, regardless of the sensible person she was she could not force herself to look away. A hunger attacked her. It sunk its fangs inside of her neck, immobilizing her before raking down her body.

She wanted to see him bathe. She...she wanted to see him bathe.

Her breath caught when he raised a cupped hand poured the cold water over the back of his neck. Goose bumps rose on his skin. The witches curse made it startling clear. With these eyes she could see everything. The gentle rise and fall of his broad chest, the routine ease he carried out his regime. The rise and fall began to match her own chest's as she became entranced by his movements.

He moved slowly, purposefully with a sense of grace she didn't think he possessed. A bead of tempting water dangled on his bottom lip. He opened his mouth his wet pink tongue slipping out. It languished in licking it up before slidding back up his plump lips slipping inside his mouth. It reminded her of the basilisk slinking back into its hole. Her heart began to race.

Voyeurism was not uncommon to her, but she was never the voyeur. She was spied on while bathing, not the other way around. Is this what it felt like to watch someone bare themselves in such a private moment?

She could feel pressure building inside her, a want that spoke to the untested depths resting in her core. Her logic had gone long ago. Reason had become no more than a haze that fluttered several steps behind her intent gaze.

Now all she could imagine was how those wet arms would feel wrapped around her scalding skin. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She shivered as lust and imagination made the bead a finger. She bit her dry lip and then sucked the roof of her mouth for moisture. Her mouth was still sweet from the fruit she eaten that morn. If he tasted her lips, deeper this time, would he savor her taste?

It was a shame really that the Maker had created this creature to be so beautiful and enticing. Had he been human, women and warriors alike would have fallen at his feet. Moistness gathered between her thighs and she squeezed them together.

Was she trying to stop the fire, or stoke it?

She held back a sigh. It would be shameful if he found he in this state. He walked closer to the edge. She could see the lines of the V that led down to his manhood. Ginger's words suddenly applied to her. Was it...big? He turned his back to her and she saw the top of his muscular butt, a fine attachment to his firm masculine thighs.

She shook as her fingers slid down to grip the bottom of her skirt. Under, should she let them wander underneath? Just for a little while, just until...no.

She shouldn't think this way.

This wasn't real. He was a trick of the light, a mirage as real as the valley's wonders. Her lust abated as she had an obvious thought. He was from the valley. Of course he was enticing and beautiful. Underneath all of that was the true demon inside. He had to cooperate in hopes of improving his situation. Helping Nima had not been kindness, it had been survival.

She felt used, foolish and naïve for thinking him a saint. One was not exiled for being a saint. There was something wrong with him and she would be stupid to get involved.

Numbly she pulled back and crawled, letting her anger propel her away from his bathing place. She fought the vibrant images tantalized her baser senses. Her nipples began to ache as they scraped against her wrap and the heat grew, even without her coaxing touch.

She swallowed hard.

No! Bad Zyra! She would not do this.

She dug her fingers into her hand. Moon shaped digs spit blood. The pain focused her mind and a light grey mist settled over her arm. Her hand tingled and she looked at it. The wounds were gone.

Goodness, she needed to rest. Taking a quick drink from the stream she rose to her full height and ran back to her tent. Her huntress duties had been completed. Well...all but one.

Sighing she lay in her light blankets, ignoring her desire to please herself. She had to wait. It was too soon after seeing him, it would spark want; but the fire had already grown to fruition, and she could not make herself stop it.

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Zyra checked for him the next day, closer to the night. He was by the fire pit, roasting some nuts and biting into a pomegranate. She winced at the sight of him sinking his teeth into the powerless fruit and the dark red juices that spilled down his chin. Noticing her approach and obvious distaste he produced a rag to wipe his mouth and set the fruit aside.

"Good eve Zyra," he rumbled lowly. "Why so late?"

"Are you in need of anything?" she said, blatantly ignoring his question.

He eyed her as always with amusement. She avoided his gaze, the event by the river still fresh in her mind.

"You seem nervous."

Her eyes snapped to his in panic. "I am not," she exclaimed indignantly. "If you require nothing I will take me leave."

She was on her heel when he interjected.

"Well actually, I am in need of something."

She took a precious second to compose herself and turned back towards him stoically.

"What is it that you require?"

He stood up, dusting his pants off and letting his hands rest on his waist. The action brought attention to the slight bulge between his legs.

Up...pull your eyes up...ZYRA!

Startling herself she looked back to his eyes. With a knowing playful look he continued on.

"Purpose. I am nothing more than a fixture here, a spook for curious wildlife. I am in need of something to do. A purpose if you will."

"We have no need for..."

"Before you say this..." he said hurriedly. "...allow me to tell you what I might provide."

Zyra let out an irritated sigh. "Proceed."

"I was a blacksmith in my village," he explained. "As well as an acceptable healer. I can make poultices, slings..."

"What is a Black Smith?"

His nose crinkled as though she were an adorable baby fawn. "It is someone who makes weapons. Like your spear for example."

"We each make our own weapons," Zyra said frowning. "How could you make proper adjustments for us?"

"Well I would measure you, and the weapons I can make are unlike any weapon you have seen."

"Then how would I use it?"

"I would teach you?"

"Okay, why would I use it?"

He laughed and shook his head. "You would use it because it would be faster, lighter, and more effective and then your current weaponry."

Zyra examined him suspiciously. "If this is so, and you are a maker of weapons, why have you not produced a weapon for yourself?"

He took three steps towards her, closing the gap between them.

"Would you have trusted me if I did?"

She swallowed as her heart sped up and took a step backwards. "I have no need to fear trusting you," she snapped.

He looked taken back. "You mean...you trust me?"

She shook her head.

"No. I know simply that it is in your best interest to be of use to us as we preserve your livelihood. You have no choice but to be the model of Rovian uprightness."

"I see," he said, a smirk tweaked on his mouth.

His yellow eyes stared down at her, as though challenging her in some unknown way. She didn't appreciate it.

"Come ogre," she said turning her back on him. "I will have you examine my huntress' weapons. You will start with our archers. Should you make a decent bow, I will give you purpose."

Zyra heard no footsteps behind her and knew he was most likely irritated that she had not called him Kail. She continued on, knowing that he would follow if he wanted his wish granted. He joined her a little after, a faltering in his step that suggested she had knocked him down a peg or two.

Good, he needed to remember his place.

She needed to remember her place as well.

This was how things were supposed to be.

She made it a point to pull her shoulders back and her head up as they walked through the village. It was the first time since he had arrived. She heard gasps, the dropping of bowls, even the hurried shushing of children who exclaimed or pointed too reverently for their mothers' likings. When she reached her fellow hunters she ignored the stupid dark shadow he cast over her.

No, she was lead huntress. The hunters would treat him based on how she treated him. Stepping to the side she raised a hand in his direction.

"This is Kail. He is a recent inhabitant of our forest."

They said nothing so she continued on.

"He claims to have skill in making weapons. I would test him by making a bow for us. Which of you will test him?"

More silence. Oh how she missed Gharla. Gharla would have stood up immediately and offered her bow. Even Firetoucher looked at her mutely. They simply watched in silence, their eyes flipping from her to him in mutual distrust.